


Underneath

by GoddessofBirth



Category: Firefly
Genre: Dark, F/M, Power Dynamics, Smut, everyone is legal, post-BDM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessofBirth/pseuds/GoddessofBirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon whispers <i>Toxic</i>; Inara, <i>Codependent</i>. Kaylee never knows if she should laugh or cry, and Mal has made himself hoarse screaming.  Zoe's always silent, but her fingers tap, tap tap against her mare's leg.</p>
<p>River and Jayne don't even hear them anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underneath

She runs a nail down his chest, scraping across his nipple in her journey and smiling slyly as he hisses and the dark patch of flesh tightens into a hard nub. She likes him like this; hungry, wanting, grinding into her as if she's the only woman who can give him what he needs.

 

And it's not an illusion, not a momentary falsehood brought about by hormones and arousal and naked curves. She's the only one who has ever been able to drive him to this level of madness, the only one who makes him want and want until he thinks he might be consumed with it, until he'll become as insane as her if he can't be buried inside _right that second_.

 

It's a delicate balance they walk. He's crude. He's hard. He only bends if he's absolutely forced to. And during the day he's just as likely to push her off as to pull her close.

 

And her? She's no delicate wallflower. She's a lunatic (can't deny that, not when two inches of her brain have taken a permanent vacation), a violent, feral thing that he's fairly sure will stab him again if the conditions are right. (He's been very careful to rid himself of any clothing carrying a Blue Sun logo, even given up his favorite liquor because it's their special house brand.) After all, she once threw a live grenade at him when she thought he'd been looking at another woman too long.

 

She gets very touchy when someone brings that incident up, though. After all, she said she was sorry – once she realized it was actually the woman's custom made rifle he was drooling over – and they both know the sex that night was some of the roughest and best they've ever had. He doesn't care, so they don't understand why the crew would, either.

 

Simon whispers _Toxic;_ Inara, C _odependent_. Kaylee never knows if she should laugh or cry, and Mal has made himself hoarse screaming.Zoe's always silent, but her fingers _tap, tap tap_ against her mare's leg.

 

Jayne and River don't even hear them anymore.

 

She scratches across his waistband, dipping her fingers just below the surface to run across the head of his cock, and in that instant he takes control, flips her over, pushes her panties to the side, and, barely taking the time to rip his zipper down, he thrusts into her.

 

Her leg comes over his shoulder, his hand leaves fingerprints on her ass, and immediately they're both panting, thrusting, clawing, grasping their way toward a mutual release, driving each other as much as themselves.

 

They reach the edge together, and for one timeless minute they still, poised for the fall. They hold each other's stare, and it's this second, this brief instant, that makes the balancing act worth it. Not the after, when she'll scream and bite and clench so hard around him his eyes will cross; when he'll curse and blaspheme; grip her so close she's often thought her bones will meld with his.

 

No, it's this, when he sees her and she sees him, and it's a polished mirror. It's knowing and faith, religion and clarity; it's every molecule in the 'verse all wrapped up in two people and it's here they know they're luckier than anyone else on this ship, anyone else from Londinium to Athens - jagged puzzle pieces that had no place in the picture until they decided to form their own, the jokers in the deck that somehow landed in the same hand.

 

They understand each other in ways Simon and Kaylee never would, ways Mal and Inara never could – just because they never say it, doesn't mean they don't _know_.

 

Then, River's breath stutters and breaks, and the moment is gone; they're both tumbling down the other side, sweat and spit and trembling muscles. He threads his fingers through her hair and buries his face in the crook of her neck and they heave in gasping breaths in tandem.

 

Without another word he reaches over and switches the lamp off. He curls his body around hers, tucks her head underneath his chin and pulls the blanket up to cover them. Another two minutes and they're both asleep, untouched by the darkness around them.


End file.
